Miyazaki Essay
by baitfish
Summary: This isn't exacly a Sprited Away fic, this is an essay (about Miyazaki) I have to do for english class. PLEASE tell me what you think of it.


  
**Miyazaki Essay**

_A story by Elle_

  
This is a descriptive essay I have to do for my english class. Please, _please_ tell me what you think of it.

  
_I am not affiliated with Hayao Miyazaki nor do I own "Spirited Away. This story was made for entertainment purposes only and not for profit._

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Sixty year old film-maker, Hayao Miyazaki, was sitting on a wooden bench on the deck of his cabin with his old boxer dog, Kamaji, sleeping on his lap. His cabin–in the woods and far from civilization–is the place where he usually goes to relax. He would do a lot of relaxing since he announced his retirement not too long ago. He leaned back as a cold gust of wind rushed past him, causing his ear-length gray hair to fly over his glasses and tickle his wrinkled forehead. The air was cold, meaning that it was almost winter. The trees all around his cabin were almost completely bare, nearly free from all their leaves. There was no sound, except for his dog's snoring. This is just what a man his age needed. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was utterly _boring_. 

He took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air only nature could produce and wished that it was the air-conditioned air of his offices at his movie studio, Studio Ghibli. He shook his head and reminded himself that he must not think about work. That was all behind him now. 

He scratched behind Kamaji's ear, who was snoring loudly in his sleep, feeling the short coarse fur scratch his fingers in return. The dog groaned in response, upset that he was disturbed from his sleep. His dog, who once possessed endless energy, never used to be this tired all of the time. He continued to pet the dog, watching as his hand moved up and down the short brown fur. His hand was wrinkled and scattered with age spots. The joints were stiff and some nerves could clearly be seen. His hands, which were once young and smooth, were now victims of age. Just like he and Kamaji were. "I guess we're both getting too old, huh boy?" he asked the dog and only got a loud snore in response. 

He felt another cold gust of wind and saw the dry, yellowing leaves that were on the trees begin to fall off. He watched as the leaves fell, joining their companions on the ground. The wind was merciless, taking the leaves who dared to stay beyond their time. The seasons were changing–the leaves that were once young and green were now dying and falling to make room for the new leaves. But there was one leave that didn't fall. The wind was hitting it repeatedly but the leaf struggled to stay on its branch. "Stubborn little thing," he said. "You shouldn't fight so hard." He knew the wind would take its victim and the leaf would fall eventually. 

A loud noise took his attention away from the leaf and looked toward the dirt road that was near his cabin and saw a car coming toward him, leaving a trail of dust behind it. Kamaji jumped off the bench and began to bark loudly at the newcomers, his short tail wagging rapidly. The noise from the car and his dog shattered the silence that seemed to grow around him. It was refreshing. 

He stood up to welcome the people who were getting out of the car, remembering that a friend and his family were coming to visit. Kamaji was jumping up to lick their faces, his tail still wagging a mile a minute. He watched as his friend called repeatedly for someone that was still in the car, and only after that name was called five times did that person come out. It was a girl who looked to be about ten years old. He watched as the girl walked slowly up the steps, went to the same bench he was sitting on and hugged her knees to her chest. Her brown hair was brought up in a loose ponytail causing loose strands of hair to nearly cover her eyes. She was indifferent to everything around her. She didn't even respond to Kamaji's barking. He stared at this girl and knew there was something more to her, he could feel it. 

Ideas immediately began to form in his mind. He was formulating a story about a girl just like this one. He stopped himself from thinking any further, remembering he was retired. But he looked at his old dog, who was acting like a puppy again and then at the leaf and he smiled. The old leaf was still hanging on, he knew it would fall eventually, but not yet. 

**THE END**

  
Please review and tell me what you think of it (and if you see any grammatical and spelling errors). And, if you have any ideas for a title I would appreciate it a whole lot if you would share it with me. 


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